Page 12 of Mensa's Match

Shit. This was not the time and she wasn’t the woman for him.

Rod, the biker sitting alone, sauntered to the bar. He appeared to be stockier now that he was standing. As he came closer Mensa noted the Corrupt Chrome MC patch. Rod’s eyes were on Whitney. That wasn’t surprising. A gorgeous woman like her… any red-blooded man would fixate on her presence. Something about Rod moving to the bar struck Mensa strange.

“And you haven’t fixed it?” Whitney asked, drawing Mensa’s gaze.

“Repairs are scheduled for tomorrow,” Mensa said in a low voice, then turned to Rod. “You need another Coor’s?”

Rod ignored Mensa and caught Whitney’s gaze. “You remember me? We met at that gyro joint.”

Whitney quickly hid her trepidation. “Um…sorry, I can’t say that I remember you.”

She turned back to Mensa, but Rod stepped closer. “How about I jog your memory. You drive that tricked-out Hyundai… or was it a Toyota? I remember talking to you about it while we waited on our gyros.”

Whitney shook her head. “Sorry, I’m in the middle of something.”

Undeterred, Rod kept talking. “Did I hear you say your car was stolen? I can help you.”

He practically leered at Whitney.

Whitney paused, nodded, then spoke in a neutral tone. “Thanks. We’re going to let the police handle it.”

Rod glanced at Mensa and back to Whitney. “He ain’t gonna be able to help you. He’s working behind the bar.”

Whitney gave a circular nod. “I’m still going to call the police.”

Rod’s eyes narrowed. “The cops are always stretched thin. And the Riot MC brothers aren’t going to be able to help you, sweet thing. Let’s go outside. We’ll call some friends of mine.”

Finn lifted the bar flap and moved behind the bar. Before Finn lowered the heavy piece of wood back into place, Mensa moved out onto the floor.

He didn’t get toe-to-toe with Rod since that would have garnered unwanted attention. He positioned himself close to the line of barstools, and within arm’s reach of Whitney. “You heard her. She wants the authorities involved. If you aren’t ordering another round, you should leave before you really insult my club.”

Dontrell rounded the corner and sidled up to Whitney. “You singing soon—”

Rod’s eyes zeroed in on Dontrell. “Barlow? What the fuck are you doing here?”

Dontrell squinted one eye at Rod. “It’s none of your damned business what I’m doing here.”

Rod leaned toward Dontrell. “Your time’s up, Barlow.”

Mensa and Whitney looked back at Rod.

“I ain’t paying a bunch of thugs to protect my business,” Dontrell said, standing straighter.

Rod glanced at Mensa and back to Dontrell. “You pay up now, or you’re gonna pay an even higher price.”

“I pay you, and what then? You aren’t protecting me from shit. You’ll just raise the damn price, and for what?” Dontrell demanded.

In a smooth motion, Rod pulled a gun from behind his back and aimed at Dontrell.

“Oh shit,” Finn muttered from behind the bar.

Whitney stood between the two men. Rod pulled back the safety. Instinct kicked in and Mensa tackled Whitney to the floor, his animosity toward her forgotten. The sound of gun shots filled the small space before they hit the ground.

The karaoke song ended abruptly and screams filled the bar.

Whitney squirmed beneath him and he tightened his grip. He moved them both toward the exit. Two more shots rent the air, but at least one of them came from a different direction. Either Finn had his gun on him, or another brother had stepped into the fray.

“Don’t move,” Rod yelled.

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